


Yellow

by akasuns



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Secret Admirer, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24944299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akasuns/pseuds/akasuns
Summary: Yellow. You loved it because it brings you joy. He loved it because of you.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Reader
Comments: 20
Kudos: 238





	Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> a badly done tribute to my favorite color and my favorite setter. here’s a big dose of the prettiest boi. hope you guys like it!

You _loved_ the color yellow.

Yellow, like the rays of sunshine kissing your skin during the afternoon golden hour.

Yellow, like the rows and rows of sunflowers at full bloom by the school gates.

Yellow, like the little townhouse by the corner, a few blocks down your neighborhood.

You just loved _everything_ about all things bright and yellow.

Yellow is fun and bright. Yellow is pure and untainted. Yellow is _happiness_.

You didn’t think you could get any more obvious about your undying love for the color. The entire student body probably already knew about your little obsession by now. If the bright yellow Scrunchie in your hair or the obnoxiously yellow polka dot pattern on your backpack weren’t enough indications, what did the trick was the stupid grin on your face while you looked down at the object in your hands.

_A pretty yellow sticky note._

And it wasn’t just _any_ yellow sticky note. It wasn’t one of those cheap ugly neon-yellow sticky notes you could get at a discount in the bookstore. It wasn’t those oddly-shaped complementary sticky notes that came with a new binder and were mediocre at best. No, this was different. It was _pastel_.

Smile never faltering, you carefully stuck the sticky note to the door of your locker and looked down at the rest of the sticky note pad on your other hand.

You didn’t need to be a stationery expert to know that this wasn’t just your average sticky note pad. Shoving aside your giddiness at the color, you noted that each slip of the pad was sturdy and thick enough to assure that the ink you used wouldn’t smudge through the next ones.

As if to demonstrate the reliability of this feature, whoever gave you this pad left a little message for you on the first piece — which was now the centerpiece of your locker door — and sure enough, the broadly stroked marker they used left no traces of ink on the next slips.

_Saw this at the bookshop and I immediately thought of you. Hope you like it._

You felt your cheeks heating up as you read and reread the neat handwriting for the fiftieth time ever since finding it in your locker this morning. You didn’t want to be too sappy but this was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you in the two years that you’ve been at Fukurodani.

“You look so ridiculously happy right now, I could throw up.”

Turning your head towards the teasing voice of your best friend, you looked up at her, smile still in place.

“Give me a break,” you said. You looked back at the sticky note in the middle of your locker and touched it fondly. “It’s not everyday that I get gifts in my locker.”

“Still, they’re just sticky notes.”

“But they’re _yellow_!”

“Ugh! You and your weird obsession!” your friend rolled her eyes, grabbing your hand and started leading you to the back of the gym where you usually ate lunch.

_(“Wait! I forgot my bento!”)_

Lunch today consisted of your usual rice, octopus sausages, and stir-fried vegetables all neatly arranged in your, what else but _yellow_ , bento box. Chewing softly on a piece of broccoli, you listened to your friend ramble on about the latest antics of your English professor.

_(“As if we, second years, learned anything about idioms last year! Who gave him the right to mess up the syllabus, who does he think he is?”_

_“Mhm, the nerve...”)_

You’re down to your last piece of sausage when the usual squeaking noises from inside the gym gradually stopped and you heard the doors open. Your friend wasn’t done with her rambling, however, so you just nodded your head at her to show you were listening, and turned to face the back door of the gym.

The boys volleyball team flocked out, training bibs donned on and slices of watermelon in their hands, as they waved at you and your companion. It wasn’t usual for the team to have practice in the middle of a school day, but they were having their Tokyo Spring Inter-High Qualifiers — you think that’s what they called it — next week so the principal gave them permission.

Your friend mindlessly waved back at them, words never ceasing as she rambled on _this time_ about the History professor, while you settled with nodding your head at them in acknowledgment. They’ve grown used to you and your friend’s presence in the times they held practices during lunch hours — which was becoming more and more frequent, actually, but you had no familiarity with volleyball seasons whatsoever so you couldn’t really pinpoint a pattern.

You weren’t the _closest_ with the team. But you were on good terms with them, especially after they swarmed you like a flock of owls one day because you just happened to be bringing grapes.

_(“Hey hey hey! Are those your grapes? Are they any good? Can I have some?”_

_“Jeez, Bokuto, talk about personal boundaries.”_

_“Konoha-san has a point, Bokuto-san.”_

_“Akaashi! Back me up once in a while!”)_

That’s how your friendship with one of the top volleyball teams in Tokyo began. Sometimes, they would let you and your friend inside the gym on particularly rainy days and occasionally, you would share with the rather loud bunch your choice of fruit for the day. Looking at the group of boys who were gradually walking closer to where the two of you were seated, you realized that today happened to be one of those occasions.

“ _Hey hey hey!_ Whatcha eating, [Y/N]-chan? Any grapes?” the 4th top ace in all of Japan said to you with excited eyes after greeting your friend, who you noticed had now directed her frustrations elsewhere in the form of Konoha and Komi’s listening ears.

“Sorry, Bokuto-senpai,” you replied before grabbing today’s fruit and handing it out to the spiker. “No grapes today but I do have some bananas if you’d like—“

He cut you off, stuffing the banana he abruptly took from your hands into his mouth and chewed loudly.

“You’re the best, [Y/N]-chan!” said Bokuto. (At least, that’s what you think he said. You couldn’t really make out his words with the way he was hurriedly chewing the yellow fruit.)

“Bokuto-san, please chew properly,” a deep soothing voice said from behind the energetic captain. “We don’t want you choking before the games next week,” the voice carried on in a rather tired tone before turning to you.

“Hello, Akaashi-san,” you said politely before handing him a banana, as well, to which he declined.

“Hello, [Y/N]. Again, you don’t need to address me as _san_. We’re in the same year, after all.”

“Sorry. Force of habit.” This earned you a soft smile from the setter.

“Don’t worr—“

“Don’t worry about it, [Y/N]-chan!” — _(“Bokuto-san, you don’t need to answer for me.”)_ — “Akaashi’s older than you for a few months. You can call him san if you really want to!”

You stared at the two volleyball players in front of you with an amused smile. One was calculated and serious, the other was vibrant and child-like. The dynamic the two shared was truly unique and if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve already seen a few of their matches before, you would have questioned if such dynamic really earned them points on the court.

“Thanks, Bokuto-senpai, but I think that’s up to Akaashi, isn’t it?” you said teasingly to the spiker. Had you taken your attention off of the pouting captain, you would have noticed how his vice-captain’s eyes lit up at the mention of his name sans the “san”. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the warning bell, to which you and your friend groaned. You packed your things, said your goodbyes to the team, and trudged towards your next class of the day.

“Great. History right after lunch. And I’m so full!”

“At least _try_ to stay awake this time.”

+++++

“Another one?”

You just nodded wordlessly to your friend, waving the bright yellow keychain a bit too enthusiastically in front of her face.

It was small, probably about two inches, and shaped like a volleyball. It wasn’t blue and yellow like those balls you often see the team practicing with — _Mikasa_ , you believed it was called. No, it was purely and untaintedly yellow. You saw it in the souvenir stand when you, along with most of the school, watched their Qualifiers last week. Imagine your surprise when you found it in your locker this morning.

“Who could it be from then?” your friend said with genuine curiosity as she watched you hook your new little gift to the zipper of your backpack. “Loads of us went to the games last week. That’s not much of a hint.”

“Mm,” you hummed in thought. “It would be nice to know who they were but if they don’t wanna come up front, I’m okay with that, too.” You smiled.

“But aren’t you even curious?”

“Of course I am. But I’m the one receiving the gifts, aren’t I?” you stared at the keychain by your bag — bright and shiny and seamlessly blending in with the color of your backpack. “I’m happy, either way.”

You meant it. You didn’t really see a reason to fuss about the identity of your mystery yellow Santa. Maybe it was the thought that someone cared enough to gift you with little trinkets here and there. Or maybe it was the fact that they were all purposely yellow. _Just as long as they aren’t stealing anything from my locker, right?_

“True, you are getting your daily fix of yellow,” your friend said, looking up at your slightly pink face and wide smile. “Weirdo.”

“Shut up!”

_“Who’s a weirdo?”_

The both of you turned towards the two figures who joined your conversation. The taller of the two looked at your friend with bright golden eyes, repeating his question a bit impatiently.

“Hey hey hey! Who’s the weirdo? Whatcha talking about?”

“Bokuto-san, please don’t meddle,” the more composed of the two said with a sheepish smile to you and your friend, as if to apologize for the overwhelming energy of his older teammate.

“Akaashi! I wasn’t meddling!”

“It’s okay, Akaashi,” your friend said as she turned towards the two. She gestured at the shiny new keychain hanging from your bag which you were hugging to your chest. “We were just talking about this weirdo’s annoying obsession with yellow.”

“Woah! That’s so cool! That’s from last week’s games, right? Akaashi, didn’t you—“

“You’re right, Bokuto-san, it does look cool.”

“Well, [Y/N]-chan, there’s more where that came from,” the spiky haired ace said with much enthusiasm. “Come see us at Nationals! Both of you! There are loads of stuff there.”

Akaashi nodded his head in agreement. “Plenty of stocks too.”

Your friend couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head at the two. “Of course we’ll go. But you got it all wrong, [Y/N] doesn’t really care much for volleyball merch. Well, unless it’s _yellow_.” She said the last word with a look of mock disgust.

“Hey! Stop talking shit about yellow,” you said, raising up your pointer finger as if to emphasize your next point. “Experts say it’s the most picked color in the world.”

“And by experts, you mean you, yourself, and— _ack!_ ”

Seemingly forgetting all about the two boys in your company, you and your friend started with what could only be described as a half-assed poking war. Bokuto and Akaashi just stared at the two of you with amused expressions until you both broke off after a few moments, clutching your sides with laughter.

Your friend wasn’t done with her assault, however. Only this time, she did so through her words.

“All I’m saying is,” she said in a teasing voice, “yellow only looks good in a few selected objects.”

“No, it doesn’t! It looks good in anything!”

“[Y/N] has a point. It can actually go with anything,” Akaashi offered in your aid to which you smiled gratefully. “It all depends on the person’s perspective.”

“Not you, too, Akaashi!” your friend couldn’t help the mock exasperation in her voice.

“Hey hey hey! It’s true, you know,” Bokuto said. “I saw a yellow owl last night and I thought it was pretty cool.”

Your friend grimaced. “Are you sure it was yellow, Bokuto-senpai? It was probably light brown or—“

_“A yellow owl?!”_ you cut her off, eyes twinkling with amazement, barely able to contain your giddiness as you looked at the captain. “Cool! I wanna see!”

Your friend just tutted while Akaashi watched as Bokuto told you all about his encounter with the supposedly yellow owl, which he swore was real. After the setter gently reprimanded the captain’s plans to drag you bird-watching at his house on some night – _(“You live on opposite sides of town, Bokuto-san.”)_ – the four of you bid your goodbyes and went separate ways.

+++++

_“Achoo!”_

Rubbing your hands together, you carried on with your walk as you braved the chilly December snow.

“[Y/N]?”

You looked up in surprise at the sound of the familiar soothing voice. Your hands were halfway through fixing the few wayward strands of hair under your new yellow beanie – yet _another_ gift from your mystery giver – as you squinted your eyes to see Akaashi Keiji.

“Akaashi! Fancy seeing you here. Heading somewhere?”

“Last minute Christmas shopping, actually. You?”

“Got mine done last week. I’m looking for some cookbooks.”

Gunmetal eyes looked at you with a mildly intense gaze, to which you couldn’t help but squirm. Sure, the two of you were on friendly terms but you’ve never been subjected to a close-up of his scrutinizing stares before. _He does have pretty eyes, though._ You thought as Akaashi broke off and directed his gaze a bit upwards instead, a smile threatening to escape from his lips.

“Nice beanie.”

“Oh,” your hands flew up to touch the item of clothing. “Thanks! It was a gift.” You smiled fondly at the memory of when you first laid hands on it, your friend’s face flashing through your mind.

_(“I still think the whole secret-yellow-gifts thing is weird, [Y/N], but I do admit that beanie is cute.”_

_“But look! It’s yellow!”_

_“I know, I know. I already said it was cute.”_

_“It even has a small sun stitched on it! In yellow!”_

_“Yes, [Y/N], I can see that.”)_

If you weren’t so stuck on memory lane, you would have noticed Akaashi’s knowing smirk at your blissful expression.

“Anyways,” he broke the comfortable silence. “You’re looking for a cookbook, right?” You nodded. “I know just the place.” And with a slight jerk of his head, the two of you stood side by side and started walking.

_Akaashi sure knows his way around here._ You thought as the setter turned at yet another corner with you trailing beside him. You were about to ask where exactly he was leading you to when he abruptly stopped, you following suit, in front of a cozy-looking bookshop. It was small, barely enough to fit in a few medium-sized shelves, and its rows and rows of books looked second-hand. It looked welcoming though, which was a good thing because the front sign was barely noticeable – just a simple board propped up by the front door, hardly attracting any customers.

Akaashi let out a chuckle at your confused expression. Gently grabbing your wrist, he led you inside the small shop, nodding in acknowledgment at the clerk who he seemed to already know, and steered you towards, _presumably_ , the culinary section. Your eyes lit up in wonder at the interior of the shop as the setter led the way. Once the both of you arrived at the small shelf containing some cookbooks, he let go of your wrist and looked at you expectantly, only speaking up when you still didn’t say anything.

“Cookbooks,” he said, face sporting an unsure yet _adorable_ grin.

You couldn’t help but stare at him. A laugh was threatening to break free from your mouth as you thought about the _quiet_ way he led you here – from the street where you bumped into each other to the front of the shop, from the front door to the row of cookbooks – and how it all culminated to him saying only _one_ word. You settled with an amused smile.

“Aren’t you a man of few words,” you said teasingly to which he let out a quiet laugh. Leaning down, you picked up one of the cookbooks with the more appetizing looking covers. _Now this would make a delicious Christmas dinner._ “Thanks, Akaashi! This place is cheaper but they’ve got good stuff, too. I can’t believe I’ve never heard of it.”

“Well, it is small and still pretty unknown.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Almost everyday. I like their collections.”

“That’s cool! I didn’t know you liked literature,” you said in amazement as the both of you went back to the front to pay for your purchase, your conversation never ceasing. It was only when the clerk was handing you your change when you noticed something _very_ familiar at the corner of your eye.

Pretty yellow sticky notes.

+++++

The New Year was a flurry of activities, keeping you busy enough to _not_ think about yellow gifts and sticky notes. It was only when you were at school one afternoon, a day before the volleyball team’s Spring Inter-High Nationals, that you were able to give your mystery gift giver some long awaited thought.

There it was. Another yellow trinket. Another hint as to your yellow Santa’s identity. Another gift placed snugly in the middle of your locker.

A yellow _owl_ plushie.

_Oh my God._

You were stupidly glad that your friend went ahead of you because you were a hundred percent sure that she, like you, would immediately make the right guess.

To be fair, there was a chance she could still guess wrong because there were _two_ options, two other people who knew about your mild interest in a yellow owl.

And because of an encounter in a small, cozy bookshop, you were sure _you_ would guess right on the first try.

_“Do you come here often?”_

_“Almost everyday. I like their collections.”_

Shakily closing your locker, you placed the cute plushie inside your backpack, keeping your head down as you made your way home in fear of people seeing just how red your face had become. _Damn that Akaashi! He was probably thinking he’s sly, complimenting my beanie like that. Urgh!_

Your parents said nothing as you trashed around red-faced in your bed later that night, muttering a string of words they couldn’t understand _(“He was totally messing with me! He knew all along! Eek!”)_ and squealing uncontrollably.

You were incredibly flattered, flustered, and confused all at the same time. Akaashi was, of course, an attractive guy – _(An athlete too, plus points!)_ – and the fact that he was the one giving you all these yellow gifts turned you into a helplessly bumbling mess. _We’re gonna watch their match tomorrow, too! Oh my God, what am I gonna do? I could never look at him the same way again._

So that’s how you found yourself on the edge of your seat at the sub-arena of the Tokyo Gymnasium the next day, cheering with the rest of the Fukurodani supporters as the boys volleyball team emerged victorious, waiting impatiently for them to finish their post-game rituals so you could give their vice-captain a piece of your mind – which was in the form of a small, yellow, _book-shaped_ keychain.

You walked straight to the messy-haired boy after the teams for the next match began their warmups – ignoring Bokuto’s booming “Hey hey hey!” at your direction – while said boy stared curiously at your movements. You bravely looked him in the eye as your hand shot out, dropping the keychain to Akaashi’s waiting palm. He looked at it for a moment, eyes shining in realization, before looking at you with a cheeky smile.

“So you found out.” It was more of an observation than a question.

“Uh huh.” You looked at him, trying your best to show your irritation at his secrecy, but it was proving to be hard when all he did in return was give you an annoyingly infectious and _charming_ smile. You couldn’t help smiling in return but it probably looked more like a grimace with the way you were biting the inside of your cheek.

You blushed uncontrollably and hid your face behind your hands, the hints of your redness seen through the small gaps between your fingers. To your embarrassment, Akaashi chuckled at your predicament.

“Come on,” he said, lightly kissing your forehead as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go look at the souvenir stands. They sell quite a number of yellow merchandise there.”

You could only nod in return, not trusting your mouth to say coherent things after your mind came up with a bunch of sudden realizations.

You loved the color yellow.

You loved it because it brings you joy.

And maybe, Akaashi loved yellow, too.

He loved it because of _you_.

**Author's Note:**

> constructive criticism is very much appreciated! this is also crossposted from my tumblr: akasuns. drop by there and say hi!


End file.
